


Porch Swing Series

by HandwithQuill



Category: A-Team(2010)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-28
Updated: 2012-11-28
Packaged: 2017-11-19 18:28:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/576340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HandwithQuill/pseuds/HandwithQuill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From the A-Team prompts Meme on LJ,  prompt was :</p>
<p>“Image: F/M or H/M or, heck, BA/M watching the rain come down on the porch swing, cuddled under a blanket or just together in bro-worthy silence.</p>
<p>Can be friendship or slash, doesn't matter - the image was just too cute to pass up!”</p>
<p>This is six little stand alone scenes for the prompt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Porch Swing Series

_M/F_

The house had a wide wrap around porch. At one end, facing away from the house, towards the open field, was a swing. Murdock was laying on it, one arm pillowed underneath his head, watching the blue sky turn purple then black as the storm clouds roll in. He could already see the lightening and hear the thunder and for once the pilot was glad to be on the ground.

His vision was temporarily blocked by blue and black plaid. Pulling the blanket off his head, he saw Face grinning at him over he back of the swing. 

“Scoot up, Bud.” The conman said, slipping in behind the pilot. Their legs entangled as one of Face’ arms was wrapped around Murdock’s waist. He spread the blanket across them both, then propped his head up in his other hand. “That looks amazing.”

“Never seen the rain coming across the plain, city boy?”

“Nope.” 

“You're in for a treat. It comes in fast. That,” he pointed to the thunderhead, “is still quite a few miles away, but it’ll be here in no time.”

Murdock was right. As they watched, the lightning came quicker and the thunder was louder. Winds whipped by them, moving the swing, even with their combined weight. Face saw movement, squinted, trying to make it out. His mouth dropped open when he realized that it was the rain, not just falling from the sky like he was use to, but racing towards them. Big, fat, heavy raindrops that pounded the ground and plinked on the roof as the storm finally got to them. The lightning and thunder were frequent now, almost like a strobe light and bass speakers in a club. 

As quickly as the thunderhead got to them, it just as quickly rolled passed, leaving only gray clouds dropping rain in sheets. The ground was soaked, as was the porch in front of them, but they were warm and dry in their blue flannel cocoon.

 

_M/H_

The house had a wide wrap around porch. At one end of the porch, facing away from the house, towards the open field, was a swing. Murdock was laying on it, one arm pillowed underneath his head, watching the blue sky turn purple then black as the storm clouds roll in. He could already see the lightening and hear the thunder and for once the pilot was glad to be on the ground.

“There room for one more, Captain?” he rolled onto his back, seeing Hannibal a step or two away, blanket folded over one arm, cigar dangling from the fingers of that hand and a book in the other. 

“Always, sir.” He said, reaching under the swing and fixing the ashtray into the divot on the arm. Murdock scooted down the swing, knees hanging off the far arm. Hannibal sat and Murdock pillowed his head on Hannibal’s thigh, going back to watch the sky. The colonel flicked the blanket open, covering the pilot, before opening his book. His other hand caressed through Murdock’s hair. 

“It still noisy inside?” he asked Hannibal after a couple of minutes. The Colonel chuckled.

“That’s one way of putting it. Face has never been quite, but B.A. seems determined to wring every sound possible out of him.” Hannibal turned the page, fingers massaging his scalp, causing his eyelids to droop. They snapped open as the thunder crashed, causing him to jump slightly, fat heavy raindrops making plinking sounds on the roof. 

He thought back to the first time that Face had told him that he was interested in the mechanic. Shortly before they were deployed to Iraq that last time. They were packing up their apartment and during an alcohol filled break, Face had let slip that he was, at the very least, in lust with Bosco.

Murdock darted his gaze from the storm to the man whose lap he rested in. Since it had been sharing time, he had told Face that he understood because he would do anything if Hannibal would look at him in desire. They had shared commiserating looks and never spoke of it again. 

At least until something about the daughter of their last client flirting with Face got to BA and he pulled the conman into the bedroom, the noise that emerged chasing the other two outside. Now Face had gotten who he wanted and Murdock was still alone. Sighing, he rolled onto his side.

“Something wrong, Captain?” he sighed again, eyes closing, wondering why Hannibal almost always called him by his title. At first he had reveled in it. It seemed to be an affirmation that, YES, damn it! He WAS a Captain in the U.S. Army! But now...He didn’t even think he’s ever heard Hannibal call Face by his rank. And like the rest of them, the Colonel interchanged BA and Bosco. But for him, it was always rank or surname. Informal formality. Just once he would like to hear one of his given names on Hannibal’s lips. If he even knew them.

“No sir.” Hannibal’s hand pulled the hair out of his eyes, before gripping his chin and turning his face towards the colonel. 

“Murdock, please tell me?” there was a note to Hannibal’s voice that he couldn’t place, even as he imagined how Hannibal would take it if he told the truth. ‘Well you see, sir, I’m in love with you and since you don’t return my feelings, I’m a little despondent.’

“It’s nothing, Colonel.” He resumed watching the sky. The edge of the porch was getting soaked, he huddled deeper under the blanket and contemplated retreating inside, no matter how noisy. 

“Hamilton?” his head snapped around, eyes blinking, mouth open in a gasp. He sat up as Hannibal chuckled at his reaction. 

“You know...How?”

“It’s in your personnel file, Hamilton Maxwell James Murdock. But what’s not in there is that Hamilton Maxwell is after both your Grandfathers and James is after you Father.” 

“If you knew, then why, after all these years, did you never use them?”

“A couple of reason,” Hannibal shrugged. “When ever anyone asked you what HM stood for, you never told them. I thought that you didn’t want anyone to know.” he shrugged again. “And no matter how informal I ran our team, as your CO, I had to have a veneer of formality, especially since-“ he cut off, the look on his face indicating he’d said too much. But it was also making Murdock’s heart pound in his chest. 

“Since what, Hannibal?”

“Since I was so attracted to you.” 

“Was?”

“Since I AM attracted to you.” Hannibal said softly. “Murdock, you don’t-“ he was cut off this time by Murdock's lips crashing into his. The pilot placed his hands on Hannibal’s shoulders as his tongue insistently tried to gain access to Hannibal’s mouth, access that was given after a few stunned seconds. The colonel’s hands grasped Murdock’s waist and pulled the pilot into his lap, fighting for control of the kiss. Gasping for air, they broke apart, forehead against forehead. 

“I love you, Hamilton.” Hannibal whispered between them, arms coming around Murdock under the blanket, cocooning them together as the rain came down in sheets just feet away.

_Face and BA_

The house had a wide wrap around porch. At one end, facing away from the house, towards the open field, was a swing. Face was sitting with his feet up on the railing, watching the blue sky turn purple then black as the storm clouds roll in. He had managed to find the old farm house and kept it in reserve if they ever needed an emergency place to hide out. Pushing off with his feet, the swing rocked back and forth a few times, a slight squeaking coming from the hooks in the roof. On one backward movement, the swing came to a jerky stop. Tilting his head back, Face saw Bosco standing behind him. The cuts and scraps looked angry, but not infected. 

“How you doin', pretty boy?” the mechanic asked, sitting down. Face half shrugged, untucking the blanket from around his legs, revealing the bandages from sliding on the road, the asphalt shedding his pants as well as the skin of his knees. He extended the blanket to Bosco, his eyes firmly ahead. He could already see the lightening and hear the thunder even though the storm was still far off. 

“We'll need more compression bandages.” B.A. said into the silence. “I used the last of them on the Boss' ribs.” 

“I'll see about restocking the whole kit tomorrow.” he murmured, as with a roar that wasn't thunder, the rain got to them, pounding on the ground, the edge of the porch, and the roof. Lightening struck just on the other side of the driveway, the leftover ozone raising the hair on their arms. A second or two later, thunder rattled the windows. 

“How's Murdock?” Face asked quietly. Bosco sighed.

“Still unconscious. Hannibal thinks he'll be okay, though. It's not the first knock to the head that Crazy has gotten.”

“Yeah.” the conman replied softly. They had gotten the information that the client needed but at too steep a price. 'If onlys' going through his mind. If only he hadn't taken Murdock with him. If only he hadn't tipped off the guard. If only he had reached out and caught the pilot before he fell.

B.A. reached out and squeezed the back of the conman's neck, offering silent comfort as the rain continued to fall.

_Murdock and BA_

The house had a wide wrap around porch. At one end, facing away from the house, towards the open field, was a swing. BA had both arms stretched out along the back as he watched the storm clouds roll in. He was content, having just come back from visiting his mother in Chicago. Even Murdock's antics couldn't bring him down today. He was looking forward to the storm. The places the team had been lately didn't get honest to goodness thunder storms. It had been too long since he had seen one. He could already see the lightening and hear the thunder.

He had readjusted the blanket around him, when he felt someone behind him. His peripheral vision caught movement, and he couldn't help the sigh that escaped his lips as a serving spoon with googley eyes and yarn hair looked at him. 

“How long is it going to take?” It asked. It's voice was small, almost frightened. 

“What going to take, Crazy?” there was movement under the swing and the spoon appeared at his knee. 

“That!” It was pointed to the storm. He reached down and hauled Murdock out from under the swing, pulling him to sit next to him. The pilot frowned at the dark clouds ahead of them. A lightning bolt struck on just the other side of the driveway, it was followed almost instantly by a loud crack of thunder. The pilot let out a frightened eep, dropped the spoon, lunged against BA's side, burying his head in mechanic's shoulder. Bosco laughed.

“Oh, don't tell me you're afraid of thunder!” Murdock raised his head.

“Thunder?” he said, indignantly. “Thunders just a sonic shock wave produced by the sudden increase in pressure and temperature from lightning. I love thunder. It's noisy!” another strike hit a little closer. Murdock's eyes widened and he tried to get between Bosco and the back of the swing. Bosco couldn't stop the full out belly laughs that followed.

“If you ain’t afraid, why you actin' like this?”

“I don't like lightning. It makes you fall out of the sky.” the pilot said, his voice small. BA pulled Murdock's head up. “In December of 1963 Pan Am Flight 214 crashed as result of a lightning strike, and 81 people were killed. Also in December of 1971, LANSA Flight 508 crashed in Peru because it was struck by lightning. 91 people died.” 

“You don't have to be afraid of lightning anymore.” BA said, putting his arm around the pilot, he pulled him to his side, wrapping the blanket around both of them. “You're the best pilot in the world, Crazy. I'll never repeat this, but I would rather never have anyone else fly me anywhere because I know, with you, I'll get there safely. And on the ground, you know I'll never let anything get you. Now, watch how pretty it can be.” He nodded with his head to where the cloud to cloud lightning was lighting up the sky, as the rain let loose about them.

_H/F_

The house had a wide wrap around porch. At one end, facing away from the house, towards the open field, was a swing. Face was sitting with his feet up on the railing, watching the blue sky turn purple then black as the storm clouds roll in. He had managed to find the old farm house and thought it would be a nice place for the team to go to on leave. Pushing off with his feet, the swing rocked back and forth a few times, a slight squeaking coming from the hooks in the roof. One more week and they would be back on base for a few days before it was back to Iraq. 

He sighed. The one thing he wanted to get done out here in the middle of nowhere was the only thing he didn't accomplish. He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't notice that Hannibal had sat down next to him until there was a tug at the blanket wrapped around his legs. 

“Come on, Kid! Share the blanket, it's chilly out here.” Hannibal inched closer, arranging the smallish square of cloth across both of them. To make it fit he had to lay him arm along the back of the swing behind Face. “You've been quite the last couple days, what's up?” he frowned at Face's hesitation. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

“Yeah, Boss. It's just...it's just there was something I wanted to do while we were on leave that I didn't get done.”

“We still have a few days yet.”

“I know, but it involves others and I don't think that they would be willing.”

“And you, of all people, can't talk them into it?” Hannibal laughed.

“No,” Face said quietly. “I can't talk them into it.” he met Hannibal’s eyes briefly, before looking back out to the coming storm. “It's something that they have to be willing to do. They have to want it, otherwise... it's just not right. In so many ways.” he met Hannibal’s eyes again, taking a chance.

“Face?” the tremors in the Boss' hand as it came up to cup Face's cheek gave him hope. 

“Your fingers are shaking, Boss. Are you as scared about this as I am? I know that you we're not expecting it, *but please tell me I'm not the only one who's vulnerable*?” 

“You're not, Kid.” Hannibal swallowed hard. “Because with out you, there's no point in going on. Your smile alone make me lights me up inside.” His hand slid around to the back of Face's neck, pulling him forward so that he could place a chaste kiss on his lips. There was a promise of more in their eyes as Face leaned against Hannibal, resting his head on his shoulder as the watch the rain fall.

::This one was based off of Secondhand Serenade's song 'Vulnerable' the line that is noted between *'s is the only one that I couldn't change, so it's straight from the song.::

_Hannibal and BA_

The house had a wide wrap around porch. At one end, facing away from the house, towards the open field, was a swing. Bosco was sitting on the swing, elbows on knees, hands clasped between them. He stared straight ahead, watching the storm clouds roll in. He could already see the lightening and hear the thunder. He hoped that Face missed the storm. The conman had gone out to get the final supplies needed before the went to Germany to get Murdock. 

The swing swayed as Hannibal sat down. The rain let loose then, causing Hannibal to reach back and grab the blanket, spreading it over them. They watched the lightning arc from cloud to cloud, sometime striking the ground. The blue-white flashes echoing in their eyes momentarily before the next flash came. The thunder rolled in then, rattling the windows of the house and vibrating in their chest.

“Boss?” the mechanic asked in a quite moment. “The place they sent Murdock, it was okay, right? Not like-not like some of the places he talked about, the ones that caused the nightmares.”

Hannibal took a drag from his cigar, letting the nicotine laced smoke invade his lungs before expelling it. 

“It's as good as it gets. One of the better Psychiatric hospitals that the VA deals with. Don't worry, Bosco,” He said, reaching out, squeezing BA's shoulder. “A few more day and we'll have our pilot back.” 

Bosco nodded, leaning back as they watched the rain fall.


End file.
